


33rd Batch

by Cyberrat



Series: Fic Batches [33]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, My Time At Portia (Video Game), Overwatch (Video Game), Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chastity Device, Cock & Ball Torture, Cuckolding, Dom/sub, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, Fluff, Foot Fetish, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Sensory Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23276029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: ch.1 Lúcio/Akande/Reaper | ch.2 Sigma/Reinhardt | ch.3 Builder/Gust | ch.4 Gust/Builder; Sonia/Albert | ch.5 Gust/Builder; Sonia/Albert | ch. 6 Roadhog/Lúcio | ch.7 McCree/Hanzo | ch.8 Raihan/Piers | ch.9 Bruce/Jason | ch.10 Raihan/Piers | ch.11 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.12 McCree/Hanzo | ch.13 Hanzo/Dragon | ch.14 Reaper/Lúcio
Relationships: Albert/Sonia (My Time At Portia), Builder/Gust (My Time At Portia), Doomfist: The Successor | Akande Ogundimu/Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Kibana | Raihan/Nezu | Piers, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Roadhog | Mako Rutledge/Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper/Reinhardt Wilhelm
Series: Fic Batches [33]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1268996
Comments: 5
Kudos: 192





	1. Lúcio/Akande/Gabriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio/Akande/Gabriel – gods-and-humans AU; demigod/sungod!Lúcio; humans Gabriel/Akande – Lúcio called for his head warrior and head strategist but not to discuss a war.
> 
> Sequel: B35F6

Compared to his decked out Lord Warrior and Lord Strategist, Lúcio is almost naked. He smirks a little, eyes roving over their frames, glinting with metal and colorful feathers that show off their rank.

They look beautiful, stunning, and fierce. Everything he wants – and needs – them to be. He sits up from his half-slouch just a little, the long golden chains dangling from his crown spilling over his shoulders and tickling his naked chest.

“You are overdressed!” he tells them quite happily. Akande and Gabriel exchange small glances, their faces carefully blank. Gabriel goes to one knee and bows deep – a feat, considering the stiff armor he is wearing. Akande keeps standing tall and stoic, dark eyes belying his cutting intelligence.

“I don’t understand,” Gabriel says carefully. “We thought there was a war at hand, my Lord.”

As well they might. They knew he had an audience with the other Gods. Being summoned immediately afterwards must have alarmed them quite a bit.

Lúcio’s smile widens and he stands, the simple white cloth with fine gold embroideries sliding along his thighs. It ends just above his knees.

“No war, just celebration,” he says enthusiastically. He slowly makes his way down; taking the steps in measured dignity while his face is split into a youthful grin at their obvious confusion. Akande’s brows have furrowed. He is wearing his intricate war paint; he must have anticipated them being sent off.

Gabriel is glancing up at him, looking just as confused, though Lúcio can see that his brain is working _furiously_ to try and figure out what their Lord is meaning.

Lúcio comes to a halt in front of them. He looks up at Akande – so deliciously tall and broad – and his Lord Warrior lets himself fall to his knees in an instant. Lúcio hums with pleasure. He reaches out and rubs soft fingertips beneath both their chins, gently urging their heads up so they will look at him.

“I am finally deciding on a consort,” he tells them, deriving immeasurable pleasure out of the contortions their faces go through, before finally settling on careful neutrality. Neither wants to seem too eager. Too greedy. Lúcio inhales deeply and slides his fingers from Gabriel’s perfectly groomed goatee into his hair. He grabs it and pulls him forward, blood running hot at how easily this fierce man lets himself get manipulated.

Lúcio presses Gabriel’s nose against his crotch, cock barely hidden by the little exquisite skirt he is wearing. Gabriel’s breath comes faster, his big hands curling into fists on his lap. Oh, he wants to touch.

And Akande is _jealous_.

“I have decided that you will be the first I will… test.”

“The first, my Lord?” Akande inquires carefully. Lúcio snickers and pushes Gabriel away before he can get too content sniffing and mouthing at his Lord’s cock through the fabric.

“I have many dear servants. And I will pluck the ones I deem fit out of their midst,” Lúcio tells them. He turns and lets them kneel, fingers moving in the air. The ground rumbles, and a lush bed begins to rise from the floor, materializing from its stone.

“Come now! Show me why I should decide on you,” he says, glancing over his shoulder as he saucily rucks his skirt up and leans forward just a smidge to let his Lord Warrior and Lord Strategist see the glinting little jewel between his cheeks.

Lúcio can hear Akande’s deep inhale. He sounds like bull. Lúcio hopes he fucks like one, too.

.o.

He does.

He does he does he does he does – Lúcio has never had so much trouble to just think. His entire – _considerable_ – being is reduced to the fat cock spreading him open and filling his insides until his fingertips tingle, and then audibly _crackle_.

Gabriel looks at them a bit nervous, but he puts his balls into his Lord’s palm even so when Lúcio begs for it. 

Oh, if Lúcio had known… if he had only _known_ how good it would be to play with his two dearest servants. If he had known that they had the power to make a demigod melt and forget his own name for a few blissful seconds.

Akande is looking beautiful and massive between his legs. He has his huge hands beneath Lúcio’s ass and easily lifts him to a height that he is most comfortable with to stuff his God full of cock.

Lúcio’s head is spinning. His fingers twitch around Gabriel’s balls, feeling how hot and heavy they are. He can practically feel the cum churning in them. He begins to drool, tugging the Lord Strategist closer by his testicles. He needs to taste him.

Gabriel follows along; always so obedient. So very concerned about his balls in the grip of an omnipotent being that seems to get more out of control the harder Akande fucks.

Lúcio has started glowing and he doesn’t know how to stop; it’s a golden shine right beneath his skin that must be hot to the touch because Gabriel hisses when he throws a leg over Lúcio’s shoulders and touches his skin.

Akande is gasping as well, but instead of pulling away, he only grabs harder. Lúcio has never been touched this… rudely. His insides seem to melt as a direct consequence to it. He urges Gabriel closer and opens his mouth wide. Gabriel’s cock is fat and heavy, drooping down from the sheer weight of it.

Lúcio keeps a tight grip on his testicles to keep him from pulling back in concern. He lifts his head, the chains and baubles from his crown gently chiming, and pops the fat tip into his mouth.

Salt bursts over his tongue when he touches it to the mushroom tip. His eyes flutter.

His being… all that he is… it is reduced to twin points of contact with his servants. He wants them to stuff him full. To fill him to the brim. To make him feel like he is ripping at the seams from their cocks.

He tries for just a few minutes to remind himself that this is to find a consort, and has to admit defeat to himself that he is unable to form a single coherent thought around the deep intrusion.

Akande moving inside him feels like he is dragging his intestines out with his cock whenever he pulls back, then shoving them back into place when he crams himself inside once more.

Gabriel on the other hand is much more… calm. Thoughtful, even. He is overthinking his every step, barely daring to nudge deeper into his Lord God’s mouth, rubbing the juicy tip against the slippery little tongue until Lúcio goes cross-eyed and his prickling fingers squeeze tight and punishing around the fat breeder balls.

He can feel how pent up he is… and he wants it _all_.

It is impossible to determine who he likes more when both of them at once are keeping him close to incoherent.

(He loves this new sensation. It makes him feel a drug-like rush).

He will have to test them again… separately… how… horrible.


	2. Sigma/Reinhardt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reinhardt/Sigma – continuation of a patreon drabble (posted before the actual fill) – sensory deprivation; foot fetish/foot fucking – Reinhardt is a service dom but every now and then he is a bit mean, too.

Sigma’s chest is heaving. He has fought against his bindings until he became loopy with it. He’s trembling for the best kinds of reasons and his head turns to any and all little noises that Reinhardt makes as he moves about the room.

He doesn’t need to prepare anything anymore, but he wants to keep Sigma on edge. The blindfold around his eyes is actually one of Reinhardt’s old ties but it works wonders.

Sigma reacts surprisingly well to sensory deprivation. It’s not something Reinhardt would have thought he’d enjoy, but here they are: Sigma’s body taut and trembling, his cock a bulge in the little slips of underwear he likes to wear, a wet spot slowly forming and spreading. Showing off tantalizing glimpses of the flexing cock beneath.

Reinhardt slowly rounds him once more, then steps closer, and leans down, breathing air against the outside of one bent knee and almost getting kicked in the nose by how hard Sigma flinches away at the sudden overwhelming sensation.

Reinhardt chuckles, big hand gently curling behind one slim calf.

“Easy now…” he rumbles good-natured. Sigma is panting open mouthed, the white fabric across his cock becoming slicker and almost see-through like a pane of glass. Reinhardt never would have thought he’d find little tighty-whities as hot as this.

He kneels down on the edge of the bed. He can hear Sigma holding his breath as the mattress slightly dips beneath him.

“I’m going to touch you,” Reinhardt says softly. He has modulated his voice into a low rumble to not overwhelm the sensitive man. He gets to see goosebumps rising along his arms for his effort. Sigma’s nipples are tiny, sensitive buds that Reinhardt really wants to torment between fingertips and the blunt edges of his nails.

He thinks Sigma would react beautifully to just the right amount of pain. Maybe he could even come just from getting his pretty tits played with _just right_.

“You are… breathtaking,” Reinhardt tells him, and Siebren’s cock flexes against the clinging cage of his little underwear. The blunt tip tries its best to push out from underneath the elastic band but hasn’t quite managed to yet. Reinhardt will not help him there.

He grasps Siebren’s bound ankles with both hands and gently lifts his legs, then places his feet right in his lap.

He watches Siebren’s face quietly while he feels his toes move; feeling out where they are now; braced against Reinhardt’s strong thighs, the crisp white hair against the impossibly soft soles of Sigma’s feet.

Reinhardt reaches over and grabs a bottle of lube. Siebren gasps, then makes a longer high-pitched whine when the cold slick hits his feet. Reinhardt can see it working in his head as he tries to figure out what is going to happen, a fetching flush crawling from beneath the blindfold.

Reinhardt doesn’t say a word; doesn’t let him know what is going to happen until he gently cups Siebren’s feet to keep them nice and together while Reinhardt fits his cock to slide between the soft soles.

Siebren’s mouth opens in a soft ‘o’ of surprise, his breath audibly hitching, cock flexing in the little white panties.

\---

“Has anyone ever done this to you?” Reinhardt asks softly as he holds Siebren’s feet in big, warm hand, thumbs sliding along slippery soles. His cock is motionless between them, just waiting for what Siebren will do.

He bites his bottom lip and turns his head away, as if he could hide his deep flush from Reinhardt. There are little gaps in the blindfold from just how big and hawkish the doctor’s nose is, but he would never dare to peek. He’s too good of a boy to play against rules.

Still, he twists to his side, knees jerking as he tries to pull his feet out of Reinhardt’s grasp in a show of very gentle, very uncharacteristic disobedience. Reinhardt has never had a playmate that is so softly bratty as Siebren.

“None of that,” he admonishes and the old boy immediately stops struggling. His ears are just as brick red as his cheeks as he lies there, twisted and feet shiny with slick lube.

“I asked you something,” Reinhardt reminds him when there’s just Siebren’s soft breathing to be heard. His tighty-whities are straining over the jut of his cock. During Siebren’s mediocre struggles it has finally managed to push its nose out behind the elastic band, and Reinhardt is treated to the view of the shiny rose colored crown.

“No,” Siebren finally says uneasy.

“Is it a hard limit?”

Siebren shakes his head. He rolls his toes, but when the big ones lightly brush against Reinhardt’s cock, he immediately unfurls them again and spreads them apart. It’s actually pretty adorable to see.

“Well then. Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

Reinhardt leans over Siebren and grabs the front of his harness. He lifts his upper body easily and deposits him back at his starting point: on his back, lying on his arms.

It makes him arch a little to accommodate the unpleasant crushing feeling. Usually Reinhardt likes to pamper his playmates to the maximum, but every now and then a little bit of unpleasantness can go a long way.

His boy has no idea how to comfortably lie, and his constant squirming and low, unsatisfied grunts are something that Reinhardt finds surprisingly sensual. His eyes keep travelling back to the wide expanse of his chest, eying how nicely it jiggles when Siebren starts to become a bit frustrated and moves more jerkily.

A frustrated Siebren is something Reinhardt has only rarely seen.

He looks down again, finally focusing on the feet that are still loosely around his cock. He kneels up so he can move better, and cups his hands tighter around Siebren’s feet. He gently squishes them together, tilting them until not only their sides, but their soles are pressed against his cock. Surrounding him in a nice little sleeve that Reinhardt can fuck into.

Siebren immediately stops his struggling. He seems to pause everything, head lifted as if he could see a thing through Reinhardt’s old tie. He gnaws at his lips, leaving them bruised looking and shiny.

“Nice and still… that’s it,” Reinhardt tells him in a rough whisper, hips moving to drag his cock deliciously slow between the soft soles. Siebren is very clean, very gentle. It is a delight to touch his body; to feel how silky he seems to be everywhere despite that he’s lived through a whole life already.

When he pushes forward, he can feel the crown of his cock popping out on the other side of the warm, slick tunnel. When he pulls back, the additional squeeze has goosebumps rise along his arms.

The sound of fucking Siebren’s feet is just as soft and wet and squelching as if Reinhardt were to use his hand, and his body reacts accordingly; a Pavlovian response to an aural stimulus.

He’s so into the sight and sound and feel that it takes he bit longer than usual for Siebren’s whimpery ‘please’ to reach his ears.

He lifts his head, glancing to Siebren’s face. His mouth is open and panting, shallow cheeks brick red.

“Please,” he says again, begging like the sweetest boy. “I want to see.”

Reinhardt exhales explosively. He leans forward, fingers gently shoving beneath the fabric across Siebren’s eyes. Just like that, his boy’s big, pale eyes are on him, blinking profusely. He has to squint, big nose scrunching up as he has trouble to focus on Reinhardt’s face.

Eventually he does manage, and then looks down quietly. He looks shocked; almost dismayed. Like he had tried to tell himself this wasn’t happening even while he got his feet fucked.

Adorable.

Reinhardt laughs softly and leans back again, practically throning over Siebren as he moves to drag his cock between his feet; faster and with more gusto now that he has an _audience_ to please.

Siebren looks all confused and flustered, head twisting to the side again, but coming back to glance at the spectacle.

Reinhardt lets carefully go of his boy’s feet, to rub up and down his long, slender legs. He smirks when they stay right where he left them; now held together by Siebren himself as he carefully keeps the soles pressed around Reinhardt’s cock to give him something to rub off against.

Reinhardt leans over him more, big hands sliding with their fingers spread along Siebren’s sides to pet him wherever he can reach. Siebren accommodates him by carefully pulling his knees up, folding his long legs against his chest.

It has to be uncomfortable still with his arms bound behind him, but Reinhardt can see in beautiful detail how his boy’s attention is shifting more and more to his Master and away from his own predicament.

Reinhardt plants his hands left and right of Siebren’s head. He stays motionless above him, waiting to see what the sweet, old boy would do.

He is not disappointed.

Siebren is staring at his face, first at his chin, then his lips, before finally looking him right in the eye while he begins to move his legs.

Like the sweetest boy he begins to carefully jerk Reinhardt’s cock with his feet, his shoulders flushing with a fetching pink because of the exertion of it all. Siebren is not used to much physical labor, and being folded up into a cute little package as he is now and having to move his legs in a precise little back-and-forth motion is quickly bringing him to his limits.

The feeling of his warm, slippery feet voluntarily rubbing along Reinhardt’s fat cock is something else. He closes his eyes, and relaxes into the feeling; lets his boy see – and hear – how much he is enjoying the treatment as warmth begins to bloom throughout his body.

Reinhardt excels in pampering his playmates, but there is something to be said about being the one being tended to for once.

“Thank you,” he says gently as he leans down and presses a kiss against Siebren’s forehead.

He moves his hips again, helping his boy along into pushing him over the edge.

It’s been a while since he’s let Siebren come, but he thinks tonight he earned himself a nice, slow handjob.


	3. Gust/Builder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gust/Builder – fluff; ace nb Builder; hurt/comfort – a storm is approaching and Gust makes sure everybody is safe.
> 
> Prequel: B32F2  
> Sequel: B33F4

It’s still early in the day and Gust still has to actively lean against the sharp wind blowing from the sea. The thought of what it might become come night has his belly clench with worry. He just hopes that Ginger honors her promise and stays inside until the worst of it all has blown over.

Frail as she is, he could see her getting blown over by the heavy winds. The thought had him pause and send a little prayer to Peach. It was unthinkable.

As he makes his way out of the city gates, the collar of his coat popped up, and his cowl wrapped around his head until only his eyes could peek out, he could see Builder’s workshop immediately.

The whole landscape was a picture of white from the past days’ heavy snowfall, but the workshop remained a nice brown-and-green, as the heat of the machines tended to melt everything before it even touched the ground.

Builder is a dark spot moving quickly between the machinery. As Gust makes his way closer, he could see that Builder is carrying wooden boards which they had secured around most of their equipment already in order to shelter it from the upcoming snowstorm.

“Heeey!” Gust calls, trying to fight against the howling of the storm. Builder’s head remains down, their face a picture perfect sight of focus. Gust frowns at their getup; they had merely wrapped a little shawl around their throat, as if it would halt the cutting cold all around them.

Gust breaks out into a little jog, the snow crunching beneath his boots. He is wrapped in the finest clothes money can buy to ward off the cold, but it is still sneaking beneath somehow. Worry has him hurrying. Builder sees him before he can call out again, their brows pulling into a frown, a hammer in their hand, arm hanging uselessly down.

Up close, Gust can see how painfully pink their cheeks are from the continued onslaught of the wind. He fumbles to pull his cowl off. His hair is immediately swept up by the sharp winds, and lashing behind him as he wraps the thick garment around Builder’s head.

“What in Peach’s name are you doing out here? Like this?!” he calls out as he frets about Builder who is vaguely struggling against him for just a moment before capitulating.

“I have to make sure my machines are not damaged!” Builder calls back.

Gust glances towards the pile of planks they are gesturing towards and frowns.

“Have you been working on those the whole time?”

“Sure have!” Builder calls back. It is surreal to be standing right in front of each other and having to scream even so. Gust has a sneaking suspicion, his heart clenching painfully.

“Have you thought about yourself? Food? We’re going to be snowed in for a couple days!”

Builder just stares at him. They are slowly blinking out of their cowl, quietly standing in laughably thin clothes in the middle of the upcoming storm. The cold is so sharp, it feels like little needles against Gust’s now naked cheeks. He has no idea how Builder just… took it like that.

“You will come to my home tonight!” Gust calls. He can see the denial building in Builder’s face, their eyes flicking to their machines. Gust grabs them by the collar and pulls them close, feeling a rush of confidence that he usually does not possess when dealing with them. The fear of losing someone close and dear to him has him act in a panic.

He likes to have everyone close to him, just like a mother hen. Just like he made Ginger promise to stay inside. And how he snatched the grocery list out of Russo’s hand. His father seemed the only one sensible enough to have grabbed his folders out of his office the day before to spend his upcoming days at home, safe and warm.

“You will program them to produce for the next two days, and then you will come,” he tells them with absolute certainty. He does not know what his face is doing, but the fight melts out of Builder’s posture, and they nod.

\---

Gust has never seen Builder as awkward as when they make their way into the mayor’s home as the sun sets and the snow that had started to drift becomes thicker.

They have Gust’s cowl in their hands and against their chest, shoulders up to their ears. They’ve been in the residence multiple times, taking part in dinner and staying overnight. For some reason, taking their boyfriend up on giving them vital shelter seemed to cross some line or something.

Russo ushers them to dinner, and father regales Builder with stories that Ginger and he are able to recite verbatim. Ginger is beaming the whole time. She loves having guests, and Builder is a special friend to her especially. Their stories give her a much needed change of her dreary routine.

Gust reaches over towards the end of the dinner, and puts his fingers on the back of Builder’s hand. He almost snatches it away again, but then grabs their fingers and pulls their hand towards his chest, cupping it like a little animal.

“You are freezing!” he says accusatory, and the table falls silent, eyes staring at Builder whose mouth opens and closes. Gust has never seen them so _conflicted_. They’re always calm and collected and dominant, so it is a bit of a shock to see them as a wholly different person when under the scrutiny of others.

“Come,” Gust says and stands. “You need a nice hot shower before you become sick.”

They trot after him obediently. When he looks back, he sees that their face has become brick red.

“What is it?”

“You just… said that in front of your family.”

“So?”

“I dunno… don’t you think that’s embarrassing?”

Gust pushes them into his rooms and starts to undress them with quick, nimble fingers. He shakes his head in wonder.

“They’re _family_. And we’re not doing anything dirty,” he tells them exasperated. It is true. While the storm is picking up outside, and the house creaks and groans worryingly, Builder takes a shower.

Gust greets them with a thick towel and starts to rub them dry, then ushers them into his room.

They’re very quiet and downright shy. They put on his clothes without fuss and sit down with him on his sofa so he can pull them into his arms and wrap a blanket around the both of them.

“I sure hope everybody else is safe. And that their homes survive the storm,” he says softly while the both of them stare out of the window. The sun has gone down completely but it is still eerily bright with all the snow billowing in thick clouds outside.

Builder shifts slightly. They turn a bit in Gust’s arms and tuck their face against his throat. It reminds Gust of when they had been so absolutely exhausted weeks ago. They’re much more lucid now, but very accepting of the gentle pampering.

Beneath the blanket, the space heats up nicely with their body heat.

“I will help them all out,” Builder murmurs. “We will repair their roofs and build them up stronger for next time.”

Gust smiles a bit. He tilts his head and presses a kiss into the Builder’s wild hair. It smells comfortingly of the shampoo they had used earlier.

“Yes. You are right, of course. But for now, we will stay and just let the storm blow over us.”


	4. Gust/Builder; Sonia/Albert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gust/Builder; Sonia/Albert – dom/sub; cbt; humiliation; cuckolding; consensual – Another playdate between the four. Direct continuation follows in the next fic.
> 
> (There’s no cheating in this fic; it’s all been talked through beforehand)
> 
> Prequel: B33F3  
> Sequel: B33F5

Gust should have anticipated it, but the sight of Sonia’s naked back as she sits on his friend’s lap has him all flustered and shocked anyway.

He pulls the door to the A&G constructions closed behind him quickly, praying that nobody still out on the plaza had seen Sonia and her husband playing.

There’s not much going on in his head as he turns back around and stands there like a little boy, just watching Sonia slowly lift herself, pausing for a moment with just the tip of Albert’s cock spreading her hole, then lets herself back down in the same self-indulgent pace.

“I’ll be right with you. Just gotta put some things together.”

Builder’s words are still somewhat echoing in the sudden emptiness that his head has become within seconds. Gust is not used to such brainlessness, but he’s also never really been confronted with the sight of his best friend’s cock in his best friend’s wife.

He’s not sure what he thinks about that. He’s not sure if he likes knowing that Albert has his balls shaved perfectly, and that he makes wheezing little whines when his cock gets milked by Sonia’s tight snatch.

“I…” he starts, then falls quiet, dismayed by his his own body’s betrayal. He should have just stood there like a good boy and wait until the storm had blown over, but now Sonia has been alerted to his presence. Albert as well, but they’re both aware that they are just props when Sonia and Builder play.

Just cocks for them to play with. Balls for them to hurt.

Sonia twists a little and glances back at him. He can see her naked breast, and for some reason that’s too much. He lifts his hands and hides his face behind them like a kid.

When he peeks out between his fingers, he can see that Sonia is still looking at him, a superior little smirk on her lips.

“Took you long enough,” she says, calm as if she’s not stuffed full of her husband’s cock. Behind her, Albert’s face flushes an impressive darker shade of red, humiliated and turned on by her blatant dismissal of him. “Stay right there and don’t move a muscle.”

Gust hesitates, then slowly takes his hands away from his face and nods miserably.

Sonia looks smug before she turns and he can only see her back again. Now that she knows she has an audience, she plays the whole thing up and has visible fun doing it.

She leans forward, hands on Albert’s shoulders, back arching so she can thrust her ass out some more and give Gust a nice view of the cock in her pussy.

She’s shaved as well, he realizes as he stares dutifully, trying to ignore his cock that feels warmer by the second. She has plump lips that frame Albert’s cock in a tight clutch. They look… tasty. It’s been a while since Gust has had his tongue dragging through a nice slippery gash, and her peach looks ready for the picking.

“You’re going to watch, and Albert here is going to make sure he doesn’t come a _second_ before I allow him to… right, honey?” she croons, one small hand gently cupping her husband’s cheek, thumb brushing along his skin as she begins to move again. Her words are gentle, but her actions are devious. As she lifts herself again, Gust can see her slick glistening on Albert’s shaft. The fat vein along the underside is pulsing, he can see it even from his position at the door.

Albert’s hands fly to her round hips and hold on for dear life. He looks close to tears, because up until just a second ago he’s been just teetering on the edge of coming, that much is obvious.

Sonia moves slowly, her breathy sighs and soft moans straight out of a porn. She’s playing it all up for them, but Gust is not sure if it is such a good thing. Albert looks like he is going cross-eyed.

“Albert, honey,” Sonia croons. “You’re not going to come in just a couple minutes like usual, are you? You know that your friend is watching… you have to put in a _little_ effort, you know? Tell your little pals that you got to work up a bit of stamina. They can’t keep up with their lackluster efforts like they’re used to.”

Sonia’s saccharine lecture hits Gust deep for some reason. He wants to look away, but can’t stop his gaze from travelling back to the sight. Builder is never this openly mean to him, but maybe… maybe they should be. The thought of getting admonished like a little boy for coming way too fast is doing things to him.

Does he like the thought of being treated like a kid by his significant other? Or does he like the humiliation of it? Or is it both?

Gust’s belly makes slow flips, and his head is aching, but his cock doesn’t seem to get the memo that they’re in a sexual crisis. It pulses and aches, trapped uncomfortably in the crease of his expensive pants.

He stares mostly at the sight of Sonia’s snatch wrapped tight around his best friend’s cock, her hole nice and spread around him, but when he glances up briefly and unthinking, Albert does the same.

There is a moment in which they mutely stare at each other. The second seems to be stretching on infinitely, both men visibly thinking about the life choices that have brought them to this point: getting tormented by their significant others and enjoying it.

Sonia starts to bounce faster, taking Albert by surprise. Gust can just stare as she literally scares the orgasm out of him. He’s had no chance to prepare himself for it; it’s just her moving painfully slow one moment, probably working her inner muscles to make him tear up, and then suddenly slamming down on him the next, letting him push in deep until he hits gold and just explodes.

Gust stares at Albert’s balls, pulled up tight to his body as they pump. He glances up; Albert’s eyes have rolled up; he shakes through his orgasm but is pulling a face like he’s going to start bawling any second now.

Gust can painfully relate.

Sonia doesn’t say anything for a moment; just sits there and pants softly before she makes a sound of disgust and lightly slaps her husband’s chest.

“What was _that_?!” she asks derisively, going up on her knees until Albert’s cock flops out of her and a frothy drip of cum follows after.

Gust instantly starts to sweat as he can literally see into the sloppy cunt of his best friend’s wife.

“I didn’t get to _cum_ yet!” she says, and almost sounds actually angry. “You _always_ do that!”

She slaps his chest again, and while he whines a pathetic: “I’m sorry, honey…” she crawls from his lap and turns to Gust so abruptly that he physically recoils.

Sonia advances on him, and grabs his crotch, small hand mean on his erection. He would have cried out if he weren’t used to the rough treatment by now. He stares at her in shock while she squeezes until tears spring into his eyes.

“You boys are just useless,” she tells him. She’s smaller than him but right now he feels like she could crush him under her heel.

“Your friend couldn’t do shit, so you will.”

“But... I… I am sorry, but Builder…” he stammers, horribly torn.

Sonia clicks her tongue.

“You’re not going to fuck me,” she tells him, “But I’ll use your cock until I come because _your friend_ can’t keep it together long enough.”

The angry twist of her face smoothes out somewhat and she lifts her free hand to cup his cheek.

“It’s alright. They’ll be fine with it, you’ll see.”

Gust whines softly.


	5. Gust/Builder; Albert/Sonia; Gust/Sonia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gust/Builder; Sonia/Albert; Gust/Sonia – cuckolding; humiliation; pussyjob; belittling – Sonia keeps tormenting the boys.
> 
> Prequel: B33F4  
> Sequel: B36F3

Sonia stares at his face for a moment longer, scrutinizing like she wants to figure out where he’s at mentally, before she looks down and begins to undress him with motions that are just short of aggressive.

Gust looks helplessly over to Albert. His friend is still sitting there, face ruddy red and the same shade as his cock lying limp and wet against his belly now that he’s shot his load deep into his unsatisfied wife.

There’s no help he’ll get from there, that much is obvious. And Sonia is… Sonia. He can’t really do anything against her, either. Not that he wants to, really. He wants to be owned by Sonia and Builder. He wants to be… to be _reduced_. To his essentials, maybe.

To a form where he doesn’t have to think about how he has to keep everyone on a ten foot pole to avoid caring too much, and where he doesn’t have to think about any construction work that has to be done.

For Sonia and Builder he’s just a cock; a body to be used and moderately hurt, and that is a weirdly comforting thought.

It does not help him, however, to not be embarrassed when his friend’s gorgeous wife squats down in front of him and pulls his pants and underwear down roughly, his stupidly hard cock wagging in her face like a dog’s tail.

Sonia scoffs, her pretty cat eyes squinting at the cherry red tip gently bouncing in front of her nose.

“You already this excited? Oh man… you have both no stamina at all, huh?”

She sounds so… disappointed. Gust bites his lip hard, glancing down at her and his cock flexing eagerly. He can’t hide how much he is enjoying this treatment.

Sonia looks so fucking _annoyed_ when she grabs him by the back of his neck and pulls him over to the couch Albert is sitting on. She pushes him to sit next to his friend, their knees almost touching. Both of them awkwardly close their legs just a little, studiously not looking at each other.

They were as awkward as could be while Sonia obviously didn’t give a fuck. She turns around and gives Gust a brief sight of her round ass and her sloppy pussy peeking between her shapely thighs before she sits said ass down on his lap.

He gasps, hands scrabbling but only finding her naked skin to hold on to. He awkwardly holds his hands up at his shoulders, heart beating fast and eyes flicking to the door where Builder could come in any second now. He’s not sure how they would react to him sitting there and having Sonia in his lap, though he does suspect it might be something they would enjoy.

Sonia huffs and twists to glance behind her. She looks annoyed for a second, then more thoughtful.

“Relax. I talked to them, alright? You won’t get in trouble. Not for this. But maybe for fucking it up like my useless hubby and coming before I’ve had my fun,” she says scathingly, throwing Albert a cool glance. Gust can’t help but look over as well. Albert’s dark eyes are shiny; he looks at Sonia with the adoration of a dog, cock looking no longer as limp as it had just moments before.

They’re well and truly fucked.

Sonia scoffs and starts to situate herself. Before long, Gust’s cock is snuggled against the slick labia he had been eyeing earlier. They feel just as plump kissing his shaft as they had looked stretched around Albert’s cock.

She uses her hand to gently cup the cherry red tip and keep it in place against her crotch.

“You are not to come,” she tells him with the air of a kindergarten teacher explaining something elementary to a kid. “It’s about _me_ getting off. Not _you_. If you can keep it until Builder comes, you’ll get something nice. If you don’t, we’ll have to see about… punishing you.”

She has her head turned, and he can see her profile. When the promise of punishment has his cock flexing against her pussy, he can see her painted lips stretch into a Cheshire cat grin.

“Understood?”

“Y-Yes,” he whispers obediently. She arches her back, cunt sliding along his cock, labia opening around it to cushion him almost as if he were to fuck her tits. His heart skips a beat, then begins to jackrabbit in his chest until his vision blurs. Realizing he has stopped breathing, he takes a huge, gulping breath, hands slowly sinking down. He holds them awkwardly against his chest like some kind of rodent, unsure of where to put them until Sonia tells him with a roll of her eyes: “Touch me, you idiot.”

Gust has always fought to make people painfully aware of his intelligence (and that it is in most cases vastly superior than theirs), but being called an idiot now is doing… _things_ to him.

He starts to feel like Albert had looked; stupidly into being belittled by this very headstrong woman.

He carefully reaches out and touches his fingertips to her naked shoulders as if waiting for it to hurt. Some part of him is honestly surprised when it doesn’t. Slowly but surely he curves his palms over the rounds of her shoulders. He’s shocked by how erotic this simple contact feels.

Sonia moves slow and deliberate. The way she twists her hips to get the maximum out of dragging her cunt along his cock tells him that this isn’t the first time she’s done it. He can’t help but spontaneously feel pity for his good friend.

“Look at it,” Sonia instructs. Gust’s gaze drops immediately, watching her plump ass and the pretty little cunt beneath. He realizes that she is smearing Albert’s cum across his cock. His insides freeze, feeling like they ball up into a tight little fist before it releases and just swamps him with embarrassed warmth. He loves this. Oh Peach…

Sonia reaches back. As if knowing that her fat ass is kind of blocking the view, she grabs both cheeks and spreads them for Gust’s viewing pleasure. His cock jerks hard enough to audibly slap her cunt.

Her asshole is cute and dark, and her cunt is cute and pink underneath. Her opening is still loose from fucking her husband a few minutes earlier, his milky cream lazily dripping out.

He’s really pumped it into her.

Gust’s cock jerks again, watching her work the slick snatch against him, and listening to Sonia’s sighs of satisfaction. They sound a lot more real than her pornstar moans from earlier.

She must know exactly how she can get Albert to do what he is not supposed to do. It’s devious, really.

Gust holds on to her tighter by the minute. He feels like he’s going cross-eyed, but he can’t stop it; just like he can’t stop his body from all but thrumming on the spot, feet scrabbling at the ground, legs moving farther apart until his knee is pressed firmly against Albert’s.

Anything to try and keep his orgasm at bay while Sonia sounds like she’s just beginning to get started.

He tries to hold on… He really does.

But things just… they just happen so _quickly_!

One minute he is still holding on by the skin of his teeth, and the other, the door to A&G Construction opens, shocking him out of his intense focus and having him stare with his mouth hanging open as Builder comes in.

He is coming, and he barely even has time to enjoy the sensation. His body is conflicted; giving him tight muscle spasms but barely the endorphins to go with it as he comes over his thighs, and Sonia’s and the hardwood floor between his feet.

Builder has ruined his orgasms a few times already, but he never really gets used to it.

They are staring at them, surprised by the sudden outbreak, a box clutched under their arm.

Gust can only imagine that it is full with wonderful toys and torture devices. He has to admit that Builder’s ensuing grin is making him very worried.


	6. Roadhog/Lúcio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roadhog/Lúcio – cumdump; cocksleeve; kind of non-con/rape – Roadhog got himself a little spoil, and Lúcio has an out of body experience because of cock.

Jamison eyes the sack Roadhog has hanging over his shoulder, his big mouth looking even bigger with how it is hanging open.

“Oi! What’s that?! I thought I told ya to only take _one_ thing! We have work to do! Stores to pillage, candy to steal, that sorta stuff! We need to _plan_ , Roadie!”

Roadhog looks at him impassively through his mask.

“‘S only one thing,” he grunts. Under Jamison’s confused stare, he heaves the sack from his shoulder and sets it down as carefully as possible. Immediately, the big lump inside begins to wriggle and struggle.

Jamison’s mouth and eyes become, if possible, even wider.

“That a human? Like… person?”

“Something like that, yes,” he confirms. Under Jamison’s stare, he opens the top of the sack until a head aggressively nudges his way out of it. Jamison is out of the loop of any popcultural developments (in fact, doesn’t care about them at all), but even he must know who the little treat is that Roadhog has gotten himself, because the noise he makes is defying anything a human should be able to do.

“Where’d you get _that one_ from?!” he asks, equal parts shocked and amazed.

Lúcio, world-famous musician, stares at the both of them with a deep frown. There’s a gag between his teeth, but it doesn’t stop him from being very vocal about how he likes being moved about in Roadhog’s special pillage sack.

“Somewhere,” Roadhog answers calmly, obviously not really in the mood to explain himself.

“What’re you gonna do with him, mate?”

Jamison is scratching his dirty fingers through his dirty hair. When Roadhog doesn’t answer, he looks up from the angry eyes of the musician he only vaguely knows the name of. Roadhog just stares at him quietly until it finally seems to click, and Jamison pulls a face.

“Ugh, whatever. I’ll be over in the other room _scheming_ , and _planning_. If you feel like doing actual work, come on in.”

He stomps past Roadhog, who waits for the door to be closed rather explosively before he turns towards his little toy for the night.

He leans down, huge hand slowly brushing over Lúcio’s head.

“I will give you back tomorrow,” he tells him. “You’ll be safer here for the night anyway. We will go out and have fun later.”

Lúcio’s gaze is murderous, but Mako thinks that he’ll change his tune up soon enough. It had been an ill-advised coup to snatch the little snack up, but once he’s seen him and saw the opening to do so, he just couldn’t help himself.

He pats Lúcio’s head again once more, then gets to work.

.o.

Mako has shoved his mask up just enough to have his mouth free. He hadn’t planned on gobbling the young man’s cock up but… he looks just so _tasty_.

Lúcio is curled over his head. He’s struggled at first but the fight left him in seconds when he felt how easily Mako lifted him on his arms; having him sit there so he could comfortably stuff his mouth with the cute little package of the musician’s cock.

His arms are still bound behind his back – maybe he’s afraid Mako would let him fall if he squirmed too much. Or maybe he just enjoys the big tongue cushioning the underside of his dick generously.

He’s hard as diamond, at least. He’s never had someone with a mouth like Mako’s completely engulf him, he suspects. His tight little belly muscles are trembling against his nose, cock flexing and touching the roof of his mouth every now and then.

Through the gag, Mako can hear the hitched whimpers Lúcio is desperately trying to stifle. He wants to keep being mad at his abductor, which is fair enough. Mako doesn’t necessarily care; not when he can still play any way he wants to.

He drags his tongue along the underside of Lúcio’s cock, then presses up and curls it as much as possible around the shaft. Against his plump bottom lip, Lúcio’s balls are trembling and twitching. He wonders how many little holes a world class musician gets to stuff… not many, if his hair trigger constitution he shows off right now is anything to go by.

Mako slowly lets him sink down again, pulling his mouth off of his cock with a lewd slurp.

Lúcio is lying in his arms, eyelids fluttering and mouth slack around the gag. He looks fucked out and Mako hasn’t even started to properly fuck him yet.

He laughs softly, gently placing the little morsel on a table. He pulls his mask back down and reaches for the lube while Lúcio is pathetically twitching and wriggling around. Trying to turn on his side and work on getting his hands out of the rope Mako has bound them in, but Mako is there within a moment and stifles any attempts at escape with one big, warm hand on Lúcio’s belly.

His thumb presses on the young man’s cock, watching how pretty it looks. It’s a nice dick; gorgeous shape. Proportionate to the rest of his body.

Mako is used to people being smaller than him, but Lúcio is a special kind of small. A special kind that Mako wants on his cock to see how his eyes bug out as if they’re going to be pushed out of his skull by the dick filling his body to the absolute brim.

“Breathe…” he reminds him as he brings slick fat sausage fingers between the trembling, muscular thighs.

.o.

Lúcio is trying to form even one coherent line of thought, but it is impossible. He just… exists.

His eyes are open, but in front of them are only exploding shapes and colors that make some kind of impossibly fascinating music.

His body is hot and full. He is vaguely aware of this man… Roadie… leisurely moving him along his cock like a fleshlight, but he’s too close to this mountain of a person to actually see him.

Lúcio is pressed against the huge belly, and every time he is gently sat back down on the massive cock filling his intestines, he is made aware that there is a bump in his own stomach pushing against the other man.

He’s tried not to breathe at first; he’s pretty much on level with Roadie’s sweaty pits, but he’s gotten so lightheaded, he just couldn’t do it anymore. By now, his tongue is lolling out. It feels coated with the fat man’s musk; he’s drooling uncontrollably.

Lúcio feels like he’s simultaneously having a stroke and is coasting on some kind of trip. The music from the colors and shapes he’s seeing is… pretty bomb, if he’s being honest.

He’s never gotten fucked straight into a new album.

Roadie lifts him slowly, then sinks him back down again. He’s… gentle, all things considered. Lúcio doesn’t think anything has teared. He’s just filled so much that it is difficult to fucking breathe.

He’s never been a toy. A cocksleeve. He can’t use his arms, though, and the huge hands holding him around his ribcage to push and pull his body along the massive cock make him feel like one, though. Just a warm hole to be fucked into.

Oh God, he hopes he can remember this banging tune… Oh fuck… he needs this guy’s number… this stinking fat guy’s address… his muse.


	7. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – cliff hanger sowwy; Hanzo needing to pull his head out of his ass – It goes on.
> 
> Prequel: B32F8  
> Sequel: B34F6

Hanzo had ripped the _literature_ (he sneers whenever he thinks about how McCree has called the few grimy books) out of the big oaf’s hand and squirrelled himself away with them. There was no chance in hell that he would sit there and let McCree watch him like some kind of benevolent teacher while he studiously poured over the filthy paperbacks he’s got from the equally filthy cowboy.

Part of him realizes that he is being rather… uncharitable to a man that he so desperately wants to bed that he is actually studying up on the matter. He can’t help but feel this wall of stubbornness as he sits at his desk and holds the books with just the tips of his fingers.

He’s being ridiculous and pigheaded, but that has always been his downfall.

As he keeps reading, he also wants to keep denying. These… freakish practices that these freakish people hold are not something he associates himself with – until he does. He’s not consciously aware of the change, but the longer he reads, the more his muscles begin to relax, and his heart stops hammering against his ribcage.

There’s a moment where he pauses and just looks at a picture of a submissive tied up in intricate ropes, helpless and vulnerable, and he imagines McCree in those bonds. He is sure the big, hirsute American would look delicious in delicate white ropes… a few sakura flowers woven into the art piece… marking him as Hanzo’s…

Hanzo’s nostrils flare, and he leans further in.

He is disrupted from his study by a mission, and the books keep lying there on his desk for two weeks until he can get back to them.

McCree is there as well, quietly sitting during the briefing, looking for all the world like he is asleep. Morrison’s face becomes a shade darker whenever he glances over at the lazy bastard, and Hanzo can’t help but feel… fondness, bubbling in his chest.

Fondness and intrigue.

He finds himself wondering as he sits perched on the roof of a dilapidated building, waiting to pick off Talon agents, whether he could train McCree. Whether McCree would want to be trained. Get some discipline and… boons for being a good boy and not riling the Soldier up just because he wants to.

It’s surprisingly difficult to read McCree. For all that he is jovial and lazy, and a bastard to boot, he plays his cards close to his chest. Hanzo had thought he was just sturdy as a pack mule – and while he certainly was, there also were glimpses of… something else. Something more refined.

Hanzo pulls a grimace as he thinks of McCree and _refined_ in one sentence. It clashes.

By the time they get back from mission, Hanzo has forgotten about the books until he drags himself into the room and sees them again on his desk. What had looked like dirty paperbacks when McCree had shoved them against his chest looked different now.

Well-loved.

He walks over and slowly drags a fingertip against one edge, imagining McCree sitting in his room and reading them over and over again, puffing a cigar, drinking some booze… looking delicious with his upper body naked and hirsute.

Barbaric, yes, but… delicious.

“Stinking oaf,” Hanzo murmurs, but there is a fond smile on his face as he traces the edges of the book one last time, then turns to finally wash away the grime of the mission and just fall into bed for a few hours.

.o.

Jesse had honestly kind of thought Hanzo had given up on the whole endeavor when the asshole hammers against his door like there’s an emergency. He rolls out of his bed with a grunt, on his feet before his brain had even properly registered that he was moving.

He slams his hand against the palm reader and the door slides open to reveal Shimada looking very calm and collected. He has Jesse’s books curled against his chest with one arm.

It’s been way over a month now, but a good chunk of that has been spent on a mission. Still, Jesse blinks at him slowly.

“Ya know what time it is, you crazy bastard?”

Hanzo lifts one bushy black brow and jerks his chin forward.

“May I enter?”

Jesse pulls a grimace, then steps to the side to let Hanzo in from the hallway. It’s like two in the fucking morning, but he doesn’t put it past DVa or Lúcio to still wander the premises in search for food. He doesn’t want anybody seeing Hanzo slipping into his rooms, really.

He’s still trying to wake up, brain somewhat refusing to drag itself out of the swamp of sleep. He scrubs his face vigorously to kickstart his sleepy head. When he blinks his eyes open again, he realizes that Hanzo is actually still in his rooms and he’s not just dreaming it all up.

“What do you want,” he asks eventually when all Hanzo does is stand there and look around.

Hanzo scoffs softly and puts the books down on Jesse’s crowded desk.

“It stinks,” he says primly, and Jesse just stares at him, blinking slowly.

“...what?”

“Your room. It stinks of you.”

Jesse bristles, fingers twitching. He wishes he hadn’t taken off his prosthetic now so he could properly wrap his hands around Shimada’s throat.

“They’re my goddamn rooms, of course they do,” he rasps, jerking his head towards the door. “Now get lost.”

He can feel his stomach aching with a slowly spreading fire of anger. Had Shimada just come here to insult him? To rub salt in the wound or some shit?

Up until now, Hanzo’s antics could have been considered cute, but Jesse wouldn’t just stand there and let himself get mocked, by this sorry excuse of a Dom.

Hanzo doesn’t move, though. He keeps standing there, arms folded in front of his chest, looking around, and then at Jesse again. Looking him up and down as if he is judging him for wearing only a ratty pair of sweatpants. He has no idea what his hair is doing right now but he’s pretty sure it’s in sore need of a brush if the disdainful curl of Hanzo’s mouth is anything to go by.

The smoldering fire starts to grow, and Jesse curls his hand slowly into a fist at his side.

“Out. Now,” he growls and steps aside to let Hanzo go.

Hanzo does move towards the door, but does still not leave.

“I wish to talk to you before I go,” he says calm as if he was sitting at a meeting.

“It’s two in the morning,” Jesse drawls slowly, trying his hardest to hold on to any shred of patience.

There is a split second of uncertainty on Hanzo’s face, his dark eyes flicking over to a clock; as if he had not even noticed how late it was. He clears his throat, then says very primly: “My apologies,” and before that can really sink in, he continues quickly: “but it is of importance. It is about this… lifestyle of yours.”

He makes a long pause that is probably supposed to make Jesse all anxious and jittery, but it is lost on him as he just stares at Hanzo and tries to figure out how to strangle him with one hand after all.

“I wish to become your Dominant.”


	8. Raihan/Piers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raihan/Piers – overstimulation/edging – Piers plays and Raihan is overwhelmed :)
> 
> Prequel: B32F9

Raihan can feel his testicles trying to shrink back into his body, cold fear running down his spine.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, buddy,” he says with a nervous laugh, eyes slanting off to the side. He’s usually effortlessly shameless, but he’s never really been confronted with as unique a situation as this.

Piers is still kneeling in front of him, his bruised looking eyes steady on Raihan. He can feel their gaze lying heavily on him. Sweat prickles along his hairline, but his traitorous cock is still hard; still pointing right at Piers’ thin lipped little mouth, waiting to slip in and drag against his tongue. Say hello again to the piercing cushioned in its middle.

“It’s alright,” Piers says easily, thin fingers curling more securely around Raihan’s cock. They look so pale they should be see-through next to his dark skin. He looks down again, staring at the purple tip of his cock and the droplet of moisture gathering at the slit because it’s a better alternative to look directly at Piers at this moment.

“I’m used to fucking with people I know. It doesn’t have to be weird.”

Raihan looks finally up again, just to see Piers sinking himself back down with his mouth wide open and his tongue stuck out.

“You do?” he rasps. His hands jerk to the sides, trying to get a grip on the cushions of his expensive couch. He tries and fails to keep his hips from jerking up into the wet little mouth.

Piers just hums, his sultry gaze wandering upward again, just staring quietly at Raihan. Looking him right in the eyes while his tongue manages to press the piercing right against his piss slit.

Stars explode in front of his eyes. He hisses and lets his head fall back, the cold fear from before melting away into warm, giddy eagerness.

“Yeah… yeah… you’re right,” he croons, hand gently petting Piers’ head, feeling the spiky strands of his thick hair. “Doesn’t have to be weird at all… Jus’… two mates bein’ bros, right?”

Piers pulls off with a lewd slurp. He kneels up until his meager little tits are right there, and guides Raihan’s cock to drag against the pierced nipples.

“Yeah,” he confirms. He sounds amused, but distracted, chin on his chest, watching Raihan’s cock leave wet smears on his skin. “You want to play?”

Raihan bites the tip of his tongue. His groin is burning warm now, his body relaxed from its earlier fear response. The buzz from the alcohol is back, and the telly is still running in the background. Piers’ Obstagoon and Raihan’s Duralodon are somewhere behind the couch, just piled together and not caring about the smell of sex and excitement or the sounds of Piers slurping cock like it’s the finest champagne.

“Yeah… Yeah, I wanna play,” he slurs. He has no idea what kind of games Piers likes to play, but he’s honestly up for anything. He’s never turned down an opportunity to get his rocks off.

“You’ve been doing this often? Goin’ to public restrooms and the likes?” he asks slowly, fingers still playing with Piers’ hair.

Piers hums thoughtfully, visibly more concerned with gently circling one fingertip over and over around Raihan’s tip, than with answering any questions.

Raihan exhales in a soft puff. It doesn’t hurt or is uncomfortable, but it tickles weirdly and is just steady enough to make him want to shimmie his hips.

“A few years. Good for getting your head clear,” Piers murmurs. He swaps his finger with his thumb, the contact surface bigger but the touch just as light and just as steady. Round and round. Rubbing. Using Raihan’s own pre-cum to slick the way silky and perfect.

Raihan’s brain is somewhat stuck on ‘a few years’, but he can’t form a good thought on it. The touch of Piers’ thumb on his cock would be negligible if it wasn’t… constant… slow… insidious.

He keeps his head tilted back against the backrest, lazily staring at the ceiling. He is trying to keep his hips still, but the soft burn that is starting at the point of contact begins to crawl down his cock and deep into his hips.

In lieu of starting to wriggle around like he’s got ants up his shorts, he takes a sip of beer. And another one. Like this, he can see their Pokémon lazily piling behind the couch, and oh… now Piers’ thumb has become his palm.

“What are you doing?” Raihan asks on a rasp. He has to flex his hips after all and immediately gets Piers’ bony elbows in his thighs for the effort.

“Playing,” Piers answers lazily. His palm is moving faster than his fingers, and with more pressure. The heat that had settled in Raihan’s hips is spreading fast, prickling and inescapable. It feels like Piers is trying to polish his goddamn dick, but it also feels too good to make him stop.

He’s groaning softly, fingers curled claw-like around his beer bottle.

His head snaps up when the palm suddenly pulls away, and he watches with a dazed look as Piers leans down and first presses a kiss right on the shining red tip, then spits licks across it to give it more slick.

The touch of Raihan’s tongue on his painfully sensitive tip has him nearly jump out of his skin.

He cries out, hands flailing. He knocks his beer bottle on the floor but there’s not much in it anyway; hands scrabbling to grab Piers’ head, though he’s already pulling back again anyway.

“What is that?!” he asks, voice a little high-pitched; not as cool and lazy when his groin is twitching and pumping as if he is coming, but no nice orgasm to show for it.

Piers is smirking up at him; he has replaced his palm and is starting to rub him again.

“Oh, you like that? I rarely get to do this. Would be better with lube, but…” he shrugs in lieu of finishing his sentence. Raihan is leaning forward, almost pressing his forehead against Piers’ while his cock gets polished like a fucking door knob.

His eyes clench shut, tears burning at their corners. It had gone from ‘kind of a bit too much but very good nonetheless’ to ‘absolutely unbearable’ within a few heartbeats. He is burning up. His cock _aches_ like hell. It’s like he’s had a… a… workout with it. Like his muscles are sore.

Piers’ palm keeps up steadily.

“Should also be tying you up,” Raihan can hear him muse quietly.

The heat is rising, rising, rising, until it just becomes too much. Raihan wants to beg him to stop and just let him cool down, but Piers is doing that all on his own. He leans down again, pressing a gentle kiss against Raihan’s tip-

And just like that he’s coming like a rocket. It hurts. It _hurts_. It burns its way up his cock and hits him in the gut like a punch. It knocks the air out of him. He doesn’t even bloody know if he likes this kind of orgasm. It leaves him shaking and shocked and a bit out of it.

Did the alcohol do this and make this so intense? He can’t tell.

What he _can_ tell is that Piers looks like a wet dream with his cum dripping from his cheeks and chest; painting his meager little tits while Piers himself looks sleepy and amused and not angry about Raihan’s lackluster performance.

“Aw… that was nice,” he says with the air of an indulgent parent. “Just gonna grab a shower and then we can keep watching that movie, alright?”


	9. Bruce/Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce/Jason – knotting; dub-con; hurt/comfort – Bruce’s knot is unusually big. Poor Jason.
> 
> Prequel: B32F10  
> Sequel: B34F4

Jason has his head turned as much as possible. He seems to be trying to not let Bruce see any more of his face than absolutely necessary, even as he has the big Alpha rock into his body in easy, self-indulgent thrusts.

Bruce wants to keep Jason’s comfort in mind, of course, but there really is no other way to describe it. He thinks anything concerned to Jason, given to him willingly or not so willingly, can be considered absolutely self-indulgent.

He wouldn’t have Jason on his dick, hot as a furnace and wet enough to slip on, if Jason didn’t think this was his absolutely only option. There were hookers, of course, but the kid is too distrusting for any of that. Maybe going to Bruce to let his heat be fucked out of his system was a bit of… comfort for him.

Bruce likes the thought, at least. He’s not usually in the habit of keeping delusions, but Jason ready to break his neck just so they wouldn’t look at each other makes it kind of necessary to fantasize about the what-could-bes.

Jason keeps whining all reedy and soft; at first Bruce thinks it is him being distressed, so he keeps mumbling awkwardly, trying out to soothe the hurt while he puts an effort into keeping his thrusts as smooth and gentle as possible, cock sliding against Jason’s hot, creamy insides in luxurious drags.

He only realizes that these are the sounds Jason makes when he cautiously has fun when the abruptly stop as Bruce’s not begins to swell and puts an extra strain on Jason’s stretched rim.

There’s a sound like the young man choking on his own tongue before his head finally turns and he stares at Bruce with wide eyes. He looks like a spooked colt.

“It’s alright,” Bruce murmurs, but he can’t keep the breathlessness out of his voice, or the slight rasp that comes with his orgasm just itching at the back of his head and wanting to break out with a vengeance.

He pushes back in, and this time he needs to put a bit of pressure on until his gently swollen knot pops into the trembling Omega. He knows his knot is… big… very much so – but Jason being taut as a bow also doesn’t help any.

“No!” Jason suddenly barks. His chest is moving with his jerky little breaths as he touches Bruce for the first goddamn time… only to put his palms against the Alpha’s chest and try to very emphatically push him away.

Bruce’s brows lower. He bears forward in an instant, fingers clutching at the bedding to try and keep the scared Omega contained so he won’t hurt himself trying to get off the knot that’s now _inside_ and won’t go anywhere soon.

“Shhh, shhh… Jason, calm down,” he says with a strained voice. Jason’s insides are clenching down on him like a fist, causing stars to explode in front of his eyes. Vision going fuzzy.

His knot is nowhere near done swelling, and Jason seems to know it. He begins to hit Bruce, fists flying without much coordination or force. He is kitten weak in his heat, body instinctively trying to minimize the damage to his organs by keeping him as docile as possible.

His fists hit Bruce’s shoulders and chest, one smacking him right in the cheek until the Alpha can get a grip on him and use force to pin them down next to Jason’s head.

They’re both breathing hard; Jason is more wheezing than anything else, his dark eyes wide and very wet. He is slowly moving his feet, digging them to no avail against the bedding and slipping on Bruce’s expensive silk sheets.

He just wants to be _gone_ and the impossible pressure to _vanish_. That much is clear. He’s probably never been knotted before, and having _Bruce_ as his first is not… ideal. That much he knows himself.

“It’ll become better,” Bruce assures with a strained whisper, his body taut, ready to just _shoot_. He’s never had as weird a breeding as this. He’s not unused to help Omegas out, but he’s never had to fight one tooth and nail while doing so. It makes him feel sick to his stomach, to be honest… but his cock doesn’t get the memo.

All it knows is that Jason feels like magma and keeps clenching down like his life depends on it.

“Just relax, Jason,” Bruce all but outright begs now, his voice climbing some as his hips jerk. He just can’t help it. Jason feels so _good_ , even when he is shaking out of his skin in panic.

When the kid just stares at him wide eyed and mute, no longer fighting against the strong grip, Bruce slowly lets go with one hand. He nervously keeps an eye on Jason’s arm, but for once the Omega does as he’s told and just keeps his hand away while tears shoot into his eyes from the painful fullness in his guts.

Bruce fumbles between them and eventually gets his fingers around the kid’s slick cock. It is all confused and half-hard, but he only wants to distract him anyway. He rubs a thumb against Jason’s crown, using the bit of wetness there to shove his foreskin back and forth and drag the silky slip of skin against the sensitive tip.

Jason yips softly, one solitary tear slipping down his temple and vanishing in his dark hairline. Bruce feels like the worst kind of predator, but there is no turning back now. He can’t just wish his knot to go down.

His hand trembles the slightest bit as he rubs Jason’s cock, trying to squeeze just a little bit of pleasure out of the kid, until the strong body beneath him finally, _finally_ begins to relax. It is like a dam breaking all of a sudden. One after the other, Jason’s muscles begin to loosen and his hitched almost-sobs quiet down into a sniffle as he just accepts the impossible stretch and feeling of fullness and focuses more on the gentle pings of pleasure derived from someone other than himself handling his pretty cock.

Bruce lets himself lean down some, and mouths at Jason’s collar bone as he can finally let orgasm wash through himself. It’s slow and understated, but at this point he really just wants to get his knot to go down so Jason will stop giving him those awful looks of betrayal.

Though… he _is_ a lot calmer now. Just softly breathing and seemingly coasting on the feeling of fullness now that he’s accepted it.

“Good boy…” Bruce whispers against Jason’s clavicle. God, he had been so afraid… it’s like an orgasm all over again just having him now quietly, carefully enjoying himself – though Bruce still has the distinct feeling that the Omega is just waiting for the moment that he can scramble off and away and hide himself in a little nook to go and lick his wounds in private.

He’ll just have to accept it. He can’t force Jason into compliance. But maybe he’ll now understand that breeding doesn’t have to be _awful_.


	10. Piers/Raihan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raihan/Piers – eggpreg; erotic birth; gape – What goes in must come out.
> 
> Prequel: B32F12  
> Sequel: B34F5

“You sure this is okay now?” Piers asks with a trembling voice. He looks down his body, staring at the pronounced bump in his belly. His cock is lying curved against it, leaving little wet smears on his skin.

Raihan is sweating profusely kneeling between Piers’ long, bony legs, three fingers gently fucking him open and trying to get his rim nice and soft and relaxed.

“It’s a month now,” he murmurs, eyes on the sight of Piers’ hole opening shockingly wide and easily for his ministrations. “Goodra eggs only need about three weeks. So we’re definitely good.”

Piers nods slowly. His eyes look just as bruised and tired as usual, but Raihan can see the nervous, worried glint in them. Raihan grins, slowly fitting his pinky finger into Piers and watching his mouth twitch and his knees jerk before he calms down again.

Piers is not unused to being _stuffed_ , but the egg will be something else entirely. Raihan is stupidly excited for it.

“Unless you want to keep running around with it,” Raihan croons. “Feel it pushing against your insides.”

Piers’ pale cheeks flush a delicate red and his heavy lidded eyes slant to the side to avoid looking at Raihan. He doesn’t want to admit it, but Raihan has obviously struck gold. He wonders how often Piers has had to squirrel himself away into a toilet and quickly jerk off just because the egg has been pressing on his prostate or some shit.

Raihan folds his thumb into his palm and, with the barest instruction to ‘bear down’, starts to push until the widest part of his hand starts to slide inside, forcing Piers’ hole to open wider for him.

Piers cries out, head thrown back, hands scrambling to grab anything and everything he can get them on.

“It’s alright,” Raihan assures him like he hasn’t just nonchalantly pushed his whole hand into Piers. “It’s good if you enjoy it! You know Goodras rarely lay any eggs… that he decided to breed you up has been a good sign! Maybe you can be a kind of… surrogate mom for Pokémon! Wouldn’t that be neat?”

Piers just gurgles something. His slim thighs are trembling, and his hot squishy insides are bearing down on Raihan’s hand, but he’s not trying to force him out; not really. He is used to Raihan being a bit rude and brutish with everything. It’s why they fit together so well.

Raihan slightly moves his arm, shimmying his hand back and forth in Piers’ rectum, and trying to form a fist inside him. It’s a little too early for it, maybe, but-

“Ah!”

Raihan’s head jerks up at Piers’ hoarse exclamation, staring at him with a bit of concern. Has he hurt him?

“I-It moved!” Piers says, voice rising a bit in pitch. He’s always a bit of a mumbler – except when he’s singing – but now he’s being very clear.

One palm still planted firmly on the ground, the other goes to cup his swollen belly. Raihan is still staring at him, when suddenly he can _feel_ it, too. The smooth, hard edge of the shell pressing down against his fingertips.

“Oh bloody hell,” he whispers, a huge grin of excitement on his face. He slightly wriggles his fingers to feel the body warm egg until Piers is babbling again.

“Get out, get out, get out! I need to- I need-”

Raihan doesn’t know what exactly Piers needs right now but he’s ready to just follow his lead. Maybe being pregnant with an egg for a month has awakened some dormant instinctive reactions in Piers, and he’s just running on pure animal logic right now. Raihan doesn’t really want to question it, to be honest. Goodra is off to the side, out of his Pokéball for now, and watching the whole thing with mild interest and his usual silly grin.

If he knows what he’s put in Piers some weeks ago, he does not show it. It more looks like he is intrigued by the humans’ silly antics.

Raihan finally pulls back. His eyes immediately are on Piers’ hole, gaping from being wrapped around a wrist.

Piers keeps whimpering, eyes clenched tightly shut. The delicate flush from earlier has darkened to a ruddy blush as he visibly begins to strain and bear down, instinctively trying to birth the egg now. Goodra moves a little bit closer to look with almost polite interest over Raihan’s shoulder.

Raihan is just sitting there, hands in his lap, watching with big eyes and an open mouth as the bump in Piers’ belly begins to wander down, and then vanish. The egg is moving. Sliding through Piers’ intestines.

It wants to be _birthed_ , though Raihan has no idea how an egg can know such a thing. Pokémon really are fascinating creatures.

“Don’t look,” Piers whines, but there is no way that Raihan will miss even a second of the sight. A light purple egg begins to fill the gaping opening, and all of a sudden it doesn’t seem possible for Piers to push the egg out. It just seems too big, the gape Raihan has left him with too little.

His tongue is paralyzed and he doesn’t get a word out. What the hell should they do? They couldn’t very well just walk into a hospital; two gym leaders, one about to birth a Pokémon egg. They could say good-bye to their licences…

“It’s cominnnng,” Piers whines, his face contorting as he starts to bear down again.

Raihan has to sit on his hands so he won’t keep grabbing at Piers while he pushes, his usually deathly pale face becoming brick red as he has to put effort into expelling the huge egg.

Piers’ whine is slowly climbing higher and higher the longer he pushes. The egg is by now filling his hole completely, and the rim is starting to expand. It’s bulging outward, clinging on to the smooth shell of the Pokémon egg as it starts to be pushed outside.

“You can do it!” Raihan says enthusiastically, but the glare Piers throws him makes him slap a hand over his mouth to keep quiet.

Behind him, Goodra is making soft gurgling sounds of interest, leaning close enough that its slime is slowly dripping from its chin onto Raihan’s naked shoulder.

Piers keeps pushing, and the egg keeps coming. By now Raihan can make a pattern out on it; big teal splotches on the light purple base color. Piers’ hole is stretched impossibly wide. Raihan has no idea how he is managing to do it. It must be all the adrenaline or something.

The egg thumping heavily onto Raihan’s fluffy carpet marks the end of the whole ordeal. Piers falls back with an exhausted grunt, his bony legs twitching. Raihan slowly reaches for the egg, but Goodra is there and curls his slimy tail around it, pulling it away to squirrel it off into another room of the apartment.

It’s for the better, probably. Raihan wouldn’t really be able to focus on it anyway; not when he is now presented with the aftermath of the birthing: Piers’ hole an inflamed red gape, the rim swollen and pouting outward so much that Raihan almost thinks it has to be a prolapse.

He’s never seen a gape like it… and he’s a bit concerned about just how quickly his cock getting hard for it. He finds himself wondering how it would feel to fuck his fist into Piers. He must not even be able to feel it after the huge egg he’s birthed.

Maybe one fist wouldn’t be enough. Maybe Raihan could fist fuck him on… both his hands…

Bloody hell.


	11. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – chastity device; small dick!Jack; old men – Jack locked himself away because he never wanted someone else other than Gabriel.
> 
> Sequel: B34F3

Gabriel pushes Jack, and Jack goes down without protest. The bed groans when their heavy bodies land on it, but thankfully doesn’t give way.

Gabriel is hot like a fever, his breathing deep and labored as he pushes his face into the crook of Jack’s neck and just inhales his scent in deep pulls.

“Fucking missed you,” he grunts softly for the millionth time, but for some reason it is only then that it really sinks home to Jack that he’s not been the only one hurting in all those years.

It’s comforting. He curls his arms around Gabe and hugs him close, just feeling his sturdy body against his. It’s been so long, but he still remembers the sensation of the hard muscles, Gabriel using his weight unashamedly to crush Jack into the mattress.

“Fucking missed _this_ ,” Gabriel murmurs, shifting himself around just a little to get his hand on Jack’s crotch – and just like this the soft ‘happy to see you again’ bubble bursts and Gabriel grunts and lifts his head to stare at Jack while he feels around the hard cage encasing Jack’s dick.

“What the… fuck?” he mutters and looks down to watch himself feel Jack up through the sweatpants he’s wearing. He slowly follows the contours of the cage until he has the fabric of the sweats pinched around it and can see it the dimensions more clearly.

“Jack…?” he looks up again, staring at Jack who tries not to freak out. At the time it had been something necessary for him to cope. It had then become something familiar and comforting… and now he stares into Gabriel’s dark confused eyes and feels impossibly idiotic. “What the hell is this?”

“A… chastity cage.”

He puts a hand over his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the expression on Gabriel’s face when the words sink in. There is a moment of utter silence before the bed begins to shift. Gabriel is starting to crawl down until he rudely pushes Jack’s legs apart to have space between them.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of Jack’s sweats and starts to work them down. There is no point in fighting it; sooner or later Gabriel would have seen it anyway. The silence when he’s bared stretches impossibly long. Jack feels nauseous but he does take his hand off his eyes and glances finally down to see Gabriel’s stony face staring at what remains of his cock.

“Why?” Gabriel asks finally, his fingers carefully rounding the locked-up little package. He lifts it slightly as if unsure whether he wants to be disgusted by the whole affair. Jack breathes into his palm until he drags it down over his chin, rasping over the perpetual stubble there.

“I… didn’t want anybody else. I thought you were dead. Locking it away seemed like the most logical option. The safest.”

“The safest…” Gabriel echoes softly. He still looks confused, staring at what has become of Jack’s erstwhile big, fat dick. Gabriel had loved to spear himself on it and ride it until it _hurt_. Now it looks like it would barely reach between the fat cheeks of his ass.

Jack’s cock has shrunk to a ridiculous little dicklett from being locked away and never used.

He’s never been bothered by it. In fact, the smaller his dick became, the calmer it made him for some reason. Getting a smaller sized cage was like putting yet another lock on the grief he felt for losing the love of his life.

Looking at himself in the mirror and seeing the ridiculous… clit… that his big cock has shrivelled into has made him… proud.

He’s not so proud now, seeing Gabriel inspect what was left of his most favorite toy in the world.

“Oh my God… Jack… what the fuck,” he murmurs, fingers fiddling with the lock like he wants to open it and take the cage off of Jack’s dick. He certainly could crack it just by doing some weird little smoke trick.

He doesn’t, though.

What he does is to suddenly cup the backs of Jack’s knees and curl him up until he is scrambling, hands digging at the bedding and voice coming out in a compressed little wheeze when he is folded up like a neat little package.

“What the hell?”

Gabriel clicks his tongue, which is not an answer at all. Jack can somehow see him just kneeling there and intently staring at all that he has bared for him. Shame trickles through him hot, making him restless and unsure about what to do. How to react. Should he be angry? Aggressive? Ashamed?

It is his body. He only did it for Gabriel. Which… is a lie. He did it for himself first and foremost. To feel comforted. Held together.

-

Gabriel inspects the virgin pink little hole that Jack has going for himself, thick finger lightly tracing the sensitive skin. He doesn’t think Jack has a spot on his body that is as soft as his ass.

The old man’s legs jerk. He nearly kicks Gabriel in the head, but he can easily dodge the foot. He lightly cups Jack’s little cock again, watching how neatly it fits in its cage. The thought that Jack hasn’t taken anybody else after thinking Gabriel was dead is making him… surprisingly gooey inside. It is a weird romantic gesture, but their relationship is not exactly what could be described as normal.

Jack’s cock – the one he remembers – has been a thing of utter beauty. Gabriel hadn’t been able to keep his hands off of it. He’d wanted it inside his belly 24/7 if possible.

The little dick it has become now is a bad joke, but he can kind of admire how… cute it is. It would fit perfectly in his mouth. A salty little package for him to idly suck on while he cleans his claws or writes up some reports.

A tiny delicious treat.

He also kind of can’t wait to put his own cock next to it. He can’t wait to try and fit his dick into Jack’s little snatch. That untouched little cunt that he’s been so stingy with even when they were young.

The one Gabriel had only ever been allowed to tickle with a finger; never to spread on his cock because Jack had taken one look at the fat beer can dick and decided that it was simply too girthy to fit inside him.

Well now… now he couldn’t argue against it anymore, could he? He couldn’t very well fuck with that ridiculous peanut cock he’s sporting now.

Gabriel leans forward and presses a gentle kiss over the trembling hole, then against Jack’s soft, warm balls, and right on the tip of the cage.

Jack is pressing a hand against his mouth, his icy blue eyes wide and shocked as he stares at Gabriel.

“It’s alright,” Gabriel assures him. “I can work with this. It’ll be fun.

Trust me.”

Jack looks relieved, if a bit unnerved by whatever expression is on Gabriel’s face.

He wonders if he looks as hungry as he feels.


	12. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – rape aftermath/mention of the rape; hurt/comfort; stoic Hanzo almost fucking things up; hopeful/happy ending – Hanzo at first wants to protect Jesse’s dignity...
> 
> Prequel: B23F3  
> Sequel: B35F7

Hanzo stares at Jesse. He can tell that it unnerves the man, but he also can‘t stop himself from doing it. He wants to keep an eye on Jesse. Last time he had gotten snatched away from pretty much right under his nose.

He can never let that happen again.

Jesse tries, upon getting back to base, to behave like nothing ever happened, but that makes what has been destroyed during his stay with Talon even more glaringly obvious.

There is an almost drunk quality to his swagger now. It doesn‘t look as natural anymore. It‘s missing the cocksure levity that it had before.

Jesse‘s lazy can-do attitude is missing.

It hurts to watch, but nobody has the heart to tell him to stop for the longest time. When someone finally does, it is not Hanzo, even though it should have been him. It is Mei, of all people.

She grabs Jesse‘s big hand in one of her little ones, and looks directly into his startled, brown eyes.

“It‘s okay now,“ she says, ignoring his weak protest and pulling his head against her soft chest much like a mother would.

Hanzo is ashamed as he sees it, and averts his gaze in deference to Jesse‘s dignity.

It takes him even longer to understand that the damage he is doing is almost worse than what Talon had done, but it is not easy to step out of his own comfort zone, so he resorts to watching for the moment.

That, too, is making things worse. Jesse looks uncomfortable, then downright disturbed. Hanzo doesn‘t give it much thought, thinking Jesse will just tell him off if it is too weird, but he is acting under the parameters of their relationship from _before_ …

Things get worse before they get better. It hurts to admit that he is the reason for the ‚getting worse‘ part, but he can‘t lose Jesse, so he needs to be honest to himself for once and accept that his stoicism is indeed toxic.

This isn‘t about him and the embarrassed shame he feels in watching Jesse lean his head against Mei‘s bosom like a child – this is about Jesse jerking up in the middle of the night to go running to the bathroom and empty the contents of his stomach with heaving retches.

They‘re a small organization and they don‘t have the medical staff they would need for a situation such as this one. Hanzo is not sure Jesse would accept the help even so.

Hanzo needs to be… more gentle; that‘s the crux of it.

He‘s blunt about it, but honest, which isn‘t exactly the right approach, but a beginning, at least. He all but storms into their shared rooms and, apropos nothing inquires stiffly: “Do you wish to talk about it?“

McCree looks at him startled, then disturbed, then angry. “The hell? No,“ he grunts, and Hanzo feels good about that response for some reason. Like part of him thinks this is the ‘correct‘ response.

Jesse curls back over his weapon, dismantled on a desk, but his posture looks stiff and coiled. After a second of nothing happening, he suddenly turns to stare at Hanzo again with bloodshot eyes.

“You enjoyed it.“

Hanzo blinks at him slowly. “Excuse me?”

“That guy f-fucking me,“ Jesse spits out, tripping over his own words. It’s something decidedly post-capture Jesse. He never used to stutter before that, all his remarks drawled slow and deliberately.

Hanzo’s first instinct is, of course, to deny it, but looking into Jesse’s burning eyes he realizes that this answer is the make-or-break point of their relationship, so he inhales deeply and looks at a spot somewhere above Jesse’s left shoulder.

“Yes.”

Jesse nods like that seals something for him. He looks down at his hands, quietly moving them around. The prosthetic is something new; the old one had been made useless by Talon, and Jesse hadn’t been able to stand it anymore.

“Alright,” he murmurs, his voice so rough that Hanzo has to lean in a little bit to understand.

“Excuse me?”

“I said ‘Alright’.”

And that… was that, it seemed. Jesse’s shoulders relaxed somewhat and his head fell back, eyes closed, broad chest expanding with a huge breath.

Hanzo stays on his spot for a few awkward moments, then slowly makes his way over.

“May I touch you?” he asks softly.

“Yeah…” Jesse croaks so fast that Hanzo feels ashamed all over again for never asking in the first place. He lightly puts his hand on Jesse’s head, doing an awkward petting motion. When Jesse doesn’t explode in his face, he relaxes and keeps on doing so. It’s like petting a dog, really. Jesse’s hair is thick and a bit coarse. It could use a wash but it’s not bad enough to not touch it.

Jesse slightly leans his head over, and Hanzo steps closer on pure instinct, gently cupping the other side of his face and urging him to press his head against Hanzo’s belly, much like he had seen Mei do.

Jesse has his hands loosely in his lap, dangling between his knees. He looks defeated; somehow even more so than when raped on a massive cock and looking like the brain had been fucked right out of him.

He closes his eyes and just feels the togetherness. He pets the side of Jesse’s face in slow, even strokes. Only when he puts his hand on the tall man’s shoulder does he feel it shaking with his quiet sobs.

Dismayed, Hanzo opens his eyes again and stares down. Jesse’s face is in a rictus of pain, tears glistening in the wrinkles all around his eyes. He turns his face and pushes it into Hanzo’s belly, wiping it against the fabric of his shirt.

Hanzo is quiet. He doesn’t know what to say. He stares down at the mess on top of Jesse’s hair, thinking about how weird he had been those first few hours and days after being pulled off Reinhardt’s lap and deposited on the ground like a wet kitten. How his face had done all kinds of weird acrobatics, his speech strangely jerky and cut off.

Obviously trying to kick himself out of whatever headspace he had been in.

“These things take time, Jesse,” Hanzo says gravely. He slowly tucks Jesse’s hair behind one of his ears. It is flushed and hot to the touch. Hanzo lightly brushes his thumb across the tip of it. “You need to give yourself some slack.”

Jesse doesn’t look at him, but he nods slowly. His arms have curled around Hanzo’s hips at some point, fingers clenched tightly in his shirt.

Hanzo wonders how badly he had needed to hear these words from him, of all people. He also wonders how many of his demons have been – and still are – revolving around the fact that Hanzo had been clearly turned on by his brutalization.

Hanzo doesn’t think much about that himself. He urges it to some dark recess of his mind where he rails off many of his more disturbing desires.

He can tell that it will be better now, though. Jesse is holding on to him like a drowning man. Hanzo will not let go. He will give him what he needs.

He will be what he needs.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo/Dragons – spit roasting; thigh fucking; exhibitionism – The roads leading to Overwatch are long and lonesome and Hanzo needs a bit of loving.
> 
> Sequel: B35F10

There hasn’t been a structure in hours when Hanzo finally comes upon a shabby little shed at the side of the country road he has been travelling. He did have enough money in his pockets to catch a ride in the other city, but he didn’t like the way the driver had looked at him, so he rather walked.

His life had become a lot simpler and a lot harder since… Genji’s reappearance. With nothing else to do to occupy his brain, he keeps obsessing over the unlikely meeting and Genji’s words.

He felt like he owed it Genji to at least try and help Overwatch out, but he didn’t know how much of a help a lone wolf like him would be. He did not trust easily. A single dubious glance had brought him on this lonesome country road, after all.

He sighs deeply and peeks into the dilapidated shed. There are four sheep inside, snuggled together and peacefully sleeping, so he leaves them be and finds his resting place behind the structure where he is marginally hidden from view.

The moment he sits down and rests his weary bones, Hidari and Migigawa come slithering out with a warm prickling sensation. When they had been younger, they had always burst forth with enthusiasm and cockiness. Now, they were more like snakes; slithering along his shoulders and arms and curling slowly around his limbs while they surveyed their surroundings.

Hanzo closes his eyes and relaxes. With the dragons out, he doesn’t have to be too vigilant. They easily keep track of what is around them.

Hidari sniffs at the cracks in the shed, interested in the sleeping sheep for but a moment before both turn towards Hanzo and start to twine about him.

It has been so long since they felt amorous like this. Hanzo rarely invited frivolous playtimes – it’s not easy to find relaxation when on the road and keeping a constant eye out for assassins.

However, since seeing that he hadn’t killed his brother after all, he was a lot more… amenable to these little play times.

The dragons were rejoicing.

They had full control over what size they wanted to be, and for the moment they wanted to be as long as Hanzo; their thick, warm bodies curling around him, claws gently tugging at his clothes and shoving them to the side.

Migigawa puts his snout against Hanzo’s mouth and huffs long enough to make his master open up for him. His broad tongue pushes inside, filling Hanzo’s mouth completely, and making it impossible to breathe.

He lets his dragon kiss him until the lack of oxygen has his head hurt.

Migigawa pulls back then, hovering close still, big eyes watching Hanzo’s flushed face and his dazed eyes.

Hidari lifts his head as well, his dragons staring at him quiet and intense. One has his claws loosely around Hanzo’s cock, but they stay still until he begins to nod and squirm his way out of his clothes for them.

They would be alerted to any wanderer coming remotely close, so Hanzo felt there was no harm in indulging himself a little before he soon would be under Overwatch surveillance and Hidari and Migigawa had to be sealed away for an indeterminable amount of time.

Under the watchful eyes of his dragons, he folds his clothes and gently puts them off to the side. He can feel their impatience pressing at him from all angles, but tries not to let himself get hurried by them.

By the time he turns towards them, the cool night air brushing over his naked body, they are already fully erect; Migigawa’s cock full of bumps; Hidari’s wickedly curved.

He has learned to appreciate both of them very much.

Hanzo starts to go to his knees, but they are on him before they can hit the ground, curling urgently around his body and pressing their slippery cocks against his thighs and hips. Humping along his back as they wrestled him down to have their way with him.

They weren’t all that big right now, but impossibly heavy even so, forcing him to submit to them and let them have their way. It reminds him of how indulgent they really are of his human whims most of the time.

Hidari mounts up, shoving his long, curved cock between Hanzo’s thighs. There’s not enough slick there to ease the way properly into his hole, but they have learned to be satisfied with the tight clench between his meaty muscles.

Migigawa is at his front, curled around Hanzo’s shoulders until his thick, bumpy cock pushes insistently against his lips. They are around him, binding him with their bodies, and not letting him away even if he wanted to. Their presence is electrifying.

His mouth falls open, eyes leading up the pale blue body to stare at the ferocious face, tongue flopping out like a red carpet. Inviting and glistening wet.

He can feel the exciting texture of Migigawa’s cock; every little bump like a kernel of corn that is blood hot and throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

“Perfect heir,” their voices croon in Hanzo’s head, filling him up with the praise that had him develop his holier-than-thou attitude in the first place. He’d do anything for their praise… and they know it.

Hidari’s claws are around his hips, grabbing on tight, tips almost pricking his skin as they hold him still. As if he would go anywhere.

The dragon pushes in, and the tip of his wickedly curved cock nudges against hanzo’s belly button. Oh, he remembers it well… how it feels to be on his back and fucked by it… how it feels like the dragon’s thrusts are going right through his belly. 

Hidari is leaning down, broad tongue dragging over the nape of Hanzo’s neck, breathing hot against his wet skin. It is difficult to kneel with his legs clamped together like this, but his dragons keep him nice and contained. He has to do barely a thing other than provide them with his body for their entertainment.

Hidari is producing enough slick to make the space between Hanzo’s thighs nice and slippery. His scales drag against his skin while he thrusts, rubbing until everything is flushed and painfully sensitive.

Hanzo makes little sounds of protest, but they are all muffled by the fat cock dragging across his tongue, the bumps all along the surface catching against the edges of his teeth every now and then until Midigawa’s claws settle in his hair and press against his scalp.

After that, Hanzo puts more effort into keeping his mouth open as far as possible, even when the hinges of his jaw begin to ache.

Behind them, the sheep must have smelled the presence of predators because they have started to bleat softly, probably hunkering together in the little shed, unaware that it is a mating that is going on so close to them.

It is exhilarating to be doing this right in the open. To feel the cool night air and the light of the moon against his skin.

The thought that he is not going to have this for the foreseeable future when he joins Overwatch is making him tear up a little bit.

But their reunion will be all the sweeter when Hanzo can lie back and spread his legs for his dragons once more…

His left hand and his right hand.


	14. Reaper/Lúcio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Lúcio – exhibitionism; unknowing voyeurism; slutty Lúcio – are 20 minutes enough for Gabriel?
> 
> Prequel: B32F15

“You can’t do this,” Gabriel whispers softly but with heat, gaze flicking over to Jack and Fareeha who are the closest to them at the moment. They don’t pay any attention to them, arguing over something about the grill.

“But you see that I can?” Lúcio replies. Gabriel can hear the self-satisfied smirk in his voice as he leans back with a little sigh, folding his hands over his belly.

Looking for all the world like he isn’t speared on a big, meaty dick. It scratches on Gabriel’s ego more than he’s comfortable to admit.

He inhales deeply and closes his eyes, trying to center himself.

Lúcio, as if realizing what he is doing, clenches his muscles and takes his cock into some kind of headlock that causes a shrill peeping sound in Gabriel’s ears from the sheer overload of sensations.

“Little bitch,” he growls right into Lúcio’s ear. He has his hands on Lúcio’s thighs and grips tight enough that it has to hurt, but the satisfaction radiates off the kid like he’s a goddamn cat.

Lúcio is _so_ happy with the outcome of his little scheme. He’s _so_ happy with sitting on Gabriel’s cock in the middle of the grill party and having him scramble to somehow not make everybody notice what is going on.

He closes his eyes again, and presses his forehead to the back of Lúcio’s shoulder. He is clenching his insides again, but this time Gabriel is prepared for the sensation of having trembling muscles constrict around his cock, keeping it nice and hot and secure in the squishy insides.

How the fuck was he supposed to come without being able to bend the boy over and grunt fuck him like he deserves? He can’t even grab Lúcio by the hip and use him like a glorified fleshlight.

The thought of the twenty minutes being up and Lúcio standing smoothly, his wide shorts falling back into place and leaving Gabriel sitting with his wet, very hard cock hanging out in the open, almost has his dick shrivel back up.

He knows he’s a handsome guy, but he is no exhibitionist. Unlike, he starts to realize dimly, his boyfriend it seems.

Lúcio is sitting and enjoying the warm sun from up above. He even arches his chin up into it so the rays can hit his throat, all the while his insides are doing all sorts of interesting things to Gabriel’s cock.

He’s working it like he’s getting paid. Gabriel can hear the wet sounds his rim makes mouthing at his shaft; smacking little kisses as Lúcio works what he has to stimulate Gabriel’s slowly flexing cock.

It’s good. But it’s not _enough_.

Gabriel wishes he could get away with reaching between his legs and at least fondling his balls. Maybe massage his taint to give him some added stimulus.

Instead, he is stuck awkwardly rubbing his ass against the garden chair to try and get… anything, really. Anything at all.

Anything that will help him break that heated plateau he’s found himself on.

If anybody had asked him just yesterday whether he’d be able to come just by sticking his dick in his boyfriend and having him work his tight little cunt, he’d have no doubt about the outcome. However… he would never have thought that this would happen with company close enough that he could reach out to touch them.

He keeps his forehead pressed against Lúcio’s shoulder, eyes clenched shut behind his sunglasses. He’s trying to drown out the noises of their friends around them, and the little voice at the back of his head counting the minutes he has to not completely humiliate himself in front of the others.

Lúcio is a nice weight on his lap, unmoving and letting him figure this whole thing out. He helps as much as he can without bouncing his little ass on Gabriel’s cock. It makes Gabriel wonder if Lúcio has even thought the whole thing through properly.

Knowing him… probably not.

Lúcio likes to be spontaneous and just have _fun_. Gabriel would be glad if that fun didn’t involve him in such a way.

He wishes he’d given in to Lúcio’s begging earlier that day and just gave him a lazy morning fuck before they got ready for the party. It feels like he might not have gone through with this if his hole had still been nice and swollen from a dicking. Lúcio has a habit of getting stir crazy when he starts to forget how it feels like to get a cock rooting around his guts.

God, what a little perfect slut…

Gabriel’s cock flexes, tip pressing hard into the wall of Lúcio’s colon.

He could have just rolled over Lúcio and crushed him into the bed. He could have fucked him as lazily as possible; barely awake, just pumping his hips, spearing him deep on a fat dick and hearing him wheeze as he tries to breathe beneath Gabriel’s weight.

He knows from experience that Lúcio would’ve loved that. Lúcio loves anything and everything, really. He’s constantly horny… constantly hungry for a filling. Hell, he’d even had a frothy load dripping out of him when Gabriel met him in that downtown club-

Gabriel’s cock flexes again. He groans softly, balls feeling hot and swollen; churning with cum. He wonders if Lúcio had kept track of when their last fuck had been. Whether he has an inkling of just how big that load is that Gabriel is preparing for him right now.

A vindictive part in him hopes that Lúcio’ll be horribly overwhelmed by it. It’s what he deserves, really.

He keeps thinking about it. The lazy mornings when he can’t be bothered to be any more fancy than dragging his cock in and out of a warm little hole. The afternoons when he is awake and has spent a whole day thinking about Lúcio and what he would like to do to him.

When he is inspired to drag out the ropes and the candles for some hot wax play. How receptive Lúcio is to a little bit of pain.

It is this that has Gabriel move his fingers, just slightly dipping the tips beneath Lúcio’s wide shorts legs so he can pinch his skin on the sensitive inside of his thigh.

The languidly lounging body sitting atop him jerks, his insides suddenly clenching down _hard_. It is accompanied by the same rough little gasp that Lúcio makes when they’re all alone and Gabriel bites his delicious little tits.

It is enough to push him over the hump finally.

His eyes tear up as he comes, ears filled with static noise when his cock flexes and his balls contract, pumping a creamy, thick load deep into Lúcio.

It’s not a second too early.

He’s just about to slowly calm down, his heart still racing a mile a minute, when Jack’s gruff voice announces that the meat is ready.

Lúcio starts to stand on legs as shaky as a young colt’s, and Gabriel just has the wherewithal to tuck his softening wet cock away as long as he is hidden behind Lúcio who looks a bit drunk as he makes his way over without so much as a look back to his boyfriend.

Fareeha is cackling and clapping his shoulder.

“Oh my _God_ , you only had _one_ beer, Lúcio! What the fuck!”


End file.
